The Warlock and the King
by Peonywinx
Summary: Sequel to "The Prince and the Servant". Four years have passed since Merlin was forced to flee Camelot, and things have changed. Arthur is now King, Guinevere his Queen, and Camelot is recovering from a horrific war with Cenred's kingdom. And Arthur is still waiting for Merlin's return.


_**A/N: So, here's the sequel to **The Prince and the Servant**. I wrote it all in one da****y =) This is my longest oneshot to date, and I have to say, I like it. A lot. Hopefully you do too. A reminder, though: please keep in mind that the continuity of **The Prince and the Servant **and **The Warlock and the King **has been modified from the original canon universe for the purpose of the story. This AU follows canon till the end of Season 2, with only slight alterations (which should be clear as you read the story), and after that, we delve into fictional territory that is completely of my own making.**  
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_**Thanks to **LadyDunla, cazzam, **and **Laughy-Taffy the Grape **for reviewing on **The Prince and the Servant**, and thanks also to ****all those who favourited or subscribed to it.**  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own** _Merlin**.**_

* * *

_The Warlock and the King_

Arthur awakes a little after dawn, before his manservant comes in to get him ready for the day. He looks around his splendid room – the chambers of the King – with mild interest, and is a bit disappointed to realise that it is the picture of perfection – scrupulously neat and tidy, with not a pin out of place. And the King of Camelot sighs, remembering that his room has not been allowed to approach even the state of _near_-mess for four years now.

As he lays in bed thinking, a quiet knock sounds on his door, and with a pang, Arthur recalls a time when his servant would not have bothered with knocking respectfully, and would have simply barged in with a goofy smile and some annoyingly cheerful quip…

"Enter," Arthur calls, and the door opens to admit George, the man who has been his personal servant for the past three and a half years. George is not like his previous manservant in any way. He is prim and proper, with a strict observance for decorum and etiquette, and is always polite and slightly disinterested. His sense of humour is sorely lacking, too – Arthur finds his jokes about brass even more boring than signing paperwork.

Nevertheless, the man is a capable servant, and Arthur keeps him around because he gets the job done, and done well. But if he had a choice…

"What's on the itinerary for today, George?" he asks, to distract himself.

George barely has to pause before rattling off a list of things to do: "Your Majesty has a council meeting at noon, and a delegation from Mercia will be arriving at half-past two for an audience. Her Majesty the Queen has also asked that I convey her request for a private lunch this afternoon with herself and the Lady Morgana."

"Tell Guinevere I'll be there," Arthur says as George slips a shirt over his bare chest. "Who are we expecting in the Mercian delegation?"

"Among others, we will be receiving my lord Henri, the Earl of Essex, Count Warwick, and Lord Bayard himself." George politely refrains from reminding the King that he read over this list of people only last night.

"Right," Arthur comments, half absent-mindedly. He already knows that he has to be in attendance at that meeting himself; despite the talent with which Morgana rules when he wishes for a day off, he cannot ask her to conduct this meeting. He still has responsibilities as King, even if he is practically ruling jointly with his half-sister.

When George has finished dressing him, and he has taken his breakfast, Arthur dismisses his servant. George respectfully bows out of the room, and Arthur makes his way to the window for a think in the short time before he has to go to the training grounds to meet with the knights.

This window in the King's chambers overlooks the courtyard, and from it, Arthur can observe his people going about their day. The window is a wonderful portal from which Arthur is free to watch without being a King; at this window, he can be himself, just let all duties and titles fall away and be what he really is: a man who is missing his best friend.

Arthur is no slouch; he knows full well that despite Merlin's absence, he still bears the responsibilities of the Crown, and he is able and willing to fulfill them – for, as King, nothing is more important to Arthur than the safety and well-being of his people. Yet, the one year he has reigned has been the most difficult of his life; he never thought ruling his kingdom would be so hard. Every day is a burden, and Arthur knows why; indeed, even when he was the Prince, Merlin had lightened his load. Now, with his duties increased tenfold as King, and no Merlin, Arthur is wearing down.

Through his window, Arthur observes the people, freshly recovered from the horrors of the war with Escetia, milling around and going about their morning duties, be it collecting water, marketing, or running errands. This simple daily occurrence always lifts Arthur's spirit by its very existence; he never ceases to be amazed at how resilient the people are, for despite barely a year having passed since the terrible battle with Cenred's armies, they are still out living their lives as if nothing had ever happened.

Unfortunately, Arthur cannot forget the events of the war as quickly nor as easily as his people seem to have. He had lost his father, almost lost Morgana, and been nearly killed more times than he cared to count, and through it all, he had not had his best friend beside him. Moreover, Uther had given away large parcels of the kingdom to Mercia in exchange for Lord Bayard's aid, and the two years of war have depleted the royal treasury to less than half its original amount. Camelot itself has only just recovered from the many fires that plagued it during the war days; some buildings are not yet rebuilt.

Arthur wants to believe that Merlin will come back; it's his single greatest wish. He knew full well that Merlin would never be able to return during Uther's reign, but once Uther died, Arthur had allowed himself to believe that Merlin would somehow know about it, and would come running back to Camelot. He had not truly begun hoping until after the war was over and he was crowned King, but ever since then he has been looking for Merlin's return.

Yet here he is, a full year since he became King, and still no Merlin. Arthur refuses to let go, but every day his hope is dwindling. After all, it's been four years. Merlin has been in hiding; quite possibly, he hasn't even heard of Arthur's ascension to the throne – although how the man could have missed hearing reports of the war between Camelot and Escetia, Arthur doesn't know. A more worrying option is that perhaps Merlin, despite his promises, no longer wants to come back. He has, after all, suffered nothing but persecution for his gifts in Camelot, and Arthur wouldn't blame him for not wanting to relive the horrors of impending execution; because although Arthur will never do that to Merlin, Merlin may not be so sure. Maybe he doesn't think Arthur will live up to his word now that he is no longer at the risk of death at Uther's hands.; maybe he imagines that Arthur forgave him for his magic only because he didn't want to see him killed. Or worse, maybe, in the four years since he left, Merlin has met his death somewhere.

It's a thought that doesn't bear thinking about, and Arthur refuses to consider it. He will keep hoping for Merlin's return with everything he has, until he cannot hope anymore.

* * *

Training with the knights proceeds as normal. Arthur spars with Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan – the latter four of whom he encountered during the dark years of the war. Lancelot had brought Gwaine and Percival to meet Arthur and offer their help against Escetia, and Uther, at an enormous disadvantage, had consented to allow them to fight with his army. Gwen's brother Elyan had been recovered from among the prisoners in Cenred's dungeon, and had subsequently fought on Camelot's side as well. When the war was over and Arthur King, Arthur had knighted all four of them, and now they and Leon make up his Knights of the Round Table, his closest brotherhood.

After the session is over, Arthur returns to his chambers for his bath, which George has already prepared for him. Then he sits in his throne room to receive whoever has requested an audience with the King today, patiently hearing his people describe their troubles and recommending appropriate solutions with sincere concern. When that is over, he holds council with his circle of advisors, many of them left over from his father's time. Arthur argues with them, as he does every meeting, over the issue of legalising magic. Arthur is pushing to lift the ban, aware now that magic is not inherently evil, and is but a weapon to be used for good or bad – but his advisors will have none of it. They refuse to allow him to make magic legal, and have threatened to stir up trouble against it if Arthur tries to override them and sign the bill that would do so. Only one man on the council, Lord Ildren, agrees with the King's intention, and he and Arthur valiantly fight with the other councilors, every time, for the legalisation of magic.

Today, as with any other day, the quarrel ends in a stalemate; Arthur and Ildren are unable to persuade the other council members to permit magic in the kingdom, and the advisors, for all their adamant words, cannot sway their King from this, in their eyes, mad course of action. Arthur leaves the council meeting disgruntled and heads for the dining hall.

Morgana and Gwen are already waiting for him, and Arthur smiles at the sight of his Queen and his royal sister, still the best of friends after all these years. The similarities to his relationship with Merlin do not escape him, but he pushes it out of his mind, resolved to enjoy this lunch.

"How was your morning, Arthur?" Gwen inquires pleasantly as Arthur takes his seat.

"Tedious," Arthur replies. "It's the same thing every day," he complains, with an air of exasperation that is highly reminiscent of the Prince he once was.

"Those are your responsibilities as King," Mogana says severely, but her eyes are understanding; since she occasionally rules in Arthur's stead, she knows all too well how dreary court life can be. "How did the council meeting go?"

Arthur scowls as he tears a chunk of bread. "Those narrow-minded morons can't recognise change even if it slaps them in the face," is his response, and Morgana's expression turns sympathetic. She knows her brother is pushing for this bill just as much for her as he is for Merlin; her inborn magic, and her abilities as a Seer, had been revealed by Morgause during her capture. Morgana shudders slightly at the memory of that awful time; Uther had never looked at her the same again. Not that she had spoken more than two words at a time to him ever since he'd ordered Merlin's death – but from the time of her rescue to the day he died, every time Uther looked at her, there was betrayal and mistrust in his eyes. Despite her brave repudiation of Morgause's attempts to subvert her allegiances, Uther considered her little more than a treacherous citizen, though her unwavering loyalty to Camelot and his great love for her had preserved her life.

And now, despite Arthur replacing his father as King, Morgana still dares not practice her gifts in public; for magic is not yet legal, and at this rate, it never will be, she reflects with dismay.

"Is it truly so difficult to override their objections?" Gwen, still unused to the many intricacies and complexities of court politics, is strongly in favour of the move to legalise magic, but she cannot understand why Arthur's hands are so tied.

"If only," Arthur sighs. "The council has been advising the Pendragon family since my father's time, Gwen. They wield a tremendous amount of influence, and I have to tread very carefully around them. It's not just the magic bill they disapprove of – they don't like many of my policies. They're too old-fashioned. But don't worry." He smiles at her. "Ildren and I will pass the law somehow, by hook or by crook, even if I have to shove it down their protesting throats. It's way past time things changed."

Morgana smiles; she has always known that Arthur will be a better King, and a better man, than his father. He is proving that now, with his determination to make magic legal again. She has no doubt that Arthur will get his way eventually – they have both inherited Uther's stubbornness, though thankfully, not his hardheadedness.

"But the majority of the people are in favour of legalising magic," Gwen points out. What she does not say is nonetheless clear to both Arthur and Morgana: the citizens of Camelot have been telling the story of Arthur and Merlin, and by now they look forward to Merlin's return almost as much as Arthur does, even though they know of his magic. In fact, it is because of his magic that they wait for him – for, according to the druidic ambassadors who cautiously approached Arthur during the early months of his reign, Merlin is the Warlock foretold in their prophecies, who will help Arthur become the King he is meant to be and achieve many great things.

"Which is why it will be possible to pass the law even if the councilors disagree," Arthur explains. "But I'm trying to avoid any major political upheaval – the last thing we need is another crisis."

There is a slight pause as the three of them recall the unpleasant memories of the war; it is something that will continue to haunt them for many more months.

"Oh, so serious," Morgana speaks up suddenly. "We've all had a long morning at court – let's not talk about politics now. There are lighter and more enjoyable subjects to be discussed. Gwen…" She beams brightly at her former maidservant. "Aren't you going to tell him?"

Arthur is instantly suspicious. "Tell me what?"

Gwen blushes, a faint flush pinking her coffee cheeks. "Arthur…I'm with child," she confesses, looking at him to see what his reaction will be.

Arthur blinks, momentarily stunned, and then a wide grin stretches across his face as he pulls Gwen into a hug. "That's wonderful!" he enthuses. "Are you sure?"

Gwen nods. "Gaius has confirmed it. I am due sometime in early fall."

Arthur's smile refuses to abate, and the atmosphere remains cheerful and blithe all through the rest of the lunch.

* * *

For the rest of the week, Camelot's citizens notice that their King is much happier than usual. No longer is his gaze constantly straying to his right to look for someone who isn't there; nor is his demeanor marked by the slight depression that has characterised his behaviour lately. They soon find out why, for it doesn't take long for the news to spread that the Queen is expecting a child – an heir to Camelot's throne. Arthur is so pleased by this that he forgets to miss Merlin, and there is a marked increase of positivity in his attitude. For almost two weeks, the euphoria of the knowledge that he is to be a father causes Arthur to act more like his old self, sarcastic, witty, and engaging. The people of Camelot rejoice in the return of the Prince in the King – but alas! – it is not to last.

Arthur's exhilaration at Gwen's news fades on the anniversary of Merlin's departure. The date forcefully brings once more to his mind what he has been able to forget for the past two weeks. It is a gloomy King who sits on the throne that day, and an irritable monarch who conducts yet another council meeting, with its generous share of arguments over the legalisation of magic.

"Sire, we _cannot _ allow magic to enter the kingdom again!" declares Lord Darris, a noble who has been serving under the Pendragons since even before Uther took the throne. His hair is iron grey, and his face is lined, but age has not diminished his strong avarice against magic; of all the advisors on Arthur's council, he is the most hostile towards what Arthur intends to do. "Your father sacrificed much to see the evils of magic wiped out, and we cannot undo the good he has done."

"What good?" Arthur retorts. "The mindless slaughter of innocent men and women? And the drowning of children?"

"Your father had good reason to do those things! He took no pleasure in the killings, I assure you – but he knew it needed to be done."

"My father," Arthur says firmly, "was blinded by his prejudice. And he was as guilty as any of those he put to death. Surely you know that I myself, due to my father's actions, was conceived through magic? And that the magic that brought me into this world cost the life of my mother?"

"King Uther needed an heir," deflects Lord Forinl. "He was deceived by magic, as we all were. He never would have done it if he knew. But your birth and your mother's death opened our eyes to a hard lesson: magic is evil, and must be stamped out by any means necessary."

"Yes, so you've said countless times," Arthur says acidly.

"My lords, I beg you to think," Lord Ildren entreats. "The Old Religion flows through every living thing. How can something that is a part of everything be evil? Magic is not of itself good or bad – it simply is. Consider the peaceful acts of the druids and the old sorcerer who healed Arthur after the third assassination attempt in the war against Escetia. Arthur would surely have died without his aid."

Arthur barely remembers that sorcerer; he was but half-conscious at the time. The third attempt against his life, carried out by a boy sorcerer under Morgause's influence, had very nearly succeeded. Uther, desperate to save his son, had reluctantly allowed the white-bearded sorcerer to heal Arthur, and had then ordered him away on pain of death – only his success in saving Arthur had preserved that old man's life.

The other advisors cannot refute the wisdom of Ildren's statement, but Sir Rory insists, "The unusual actions of one sorcerer do not excuse the crimes of the others."

"So would you have us hunt him down and kill him too?" Arthur demands, his blood boiling. "Even though he did nothing but save the life of your future King?" he adds pointedly.

Undaunted, Lord Darris falls back on an excuse Uther himself used many times. "We cannot presume to know the minds of sorcerers," he says infuriatingly. "They do not follow the logic of ordinary men. Mark my words – that sorcerer healed you only because he gained something from it. I wager he has a heinous plan in mind that required you to live."

"Every time a reason to trust magic comes up, you bring up that excuse, without fail," Arthur points out. "It's a defence that is wearing thin, and it does not hold much weight."

"Magic will never be legal in Camelot!" Lord Darris raises his voice angrily.

"Yes, it will!" Arthur shouts back, equally enraged. "I am the King, and I can make it so, with or without your approval. The people are in favour, my Queen is in favour, the Lady Morgana is in favour – you are overruled! I have tried, out of respect for my father's memory, to persuade you instead of going over your heads – but by God, this has gone on long enough! The ban against magic _will _be lifted, and it will happen tomorrow!"

"You cannot do that!" Darris exclaims.

"I can and I will!" Arthur thunders.

The instant the words cross his lips, the council room doors swing open of their own accord, permitting entry to the cloaked figure who strolls in unopposed by the guards posted outside; a quick inspection reveals that they have been forcibly restrained by means of a thick rope.

Immediately, the advisors draw their swords; ever since the war, no knight or nobleman has been comfortable leaving his sword aside from his person, for Cenred's initial attack had come as a surprise, and many had, regrettably, been without a weapon that day. Arthur himself would have reached for his sword hanging beside his chair, had not a queer feeling that this unknown person meant him no harm come over him.

"Put your swords away," he orders. The councilors look at him in disbelief, but Arthur is insistent. "You heard me. Put your weapons down."

Lord Ildren is the first to consent, laying his sword on the table. But it takes a glare and another direct command from Arthur before the others follow his lead.

When all are safely disarmed, Arthur turns to the stranger, willing himself to realise why he seems so familiar. The stranger is a man, wearing a grey cloak with a hood that shrouds his face in shadow. Under the folds of the cloak, a glimpse of earthen brown clothes can be seen, but there is little else to be discerned from the hooded figure. There is an indefinable air of magic about him, an aura of power that makes it unmistakable what he is. Yet Arthur knows, and wonders how he knows, that this man is a friend.

"Speak, stranger," Arthur bids him. "You need fear no condemnation here, so long as your intentions are honourable."

The hooded man looks around the room, and Arthur gets the strangest feeling that he is amused and a little irritated at the same time. _How do I know him? _he wonders in frustration. For the life of him Arthur cannot place where he has seen this stranger before.

Then the man speaks.

"Why did it take you so long, you prat?"

Arthur's jaw drops as he gasps in recognition; around the room, his advisors are wearing similar expressions of shock. It is not only the voice that is undeniable – but the words; for there is only one person who has ever dared to call Arthur Pendragon a prat.

"Merlin?" Arthur manages with difficulty, staring at his friend, who lifts his hood to reveal the manservant Arthur has been missing these past four years.

Merlin has changed, Arthur notes. While his face is not much different, there is a subtle shadow to it that speaks of newfound steel beneath the caring soul Merlin has always been. He is surer and more confident, too; he does not so much as flinch from the hostile glares Lord Darris is shooting at him – and to Arthur's dismay, he has grown ever-so-slightly taller, giving him yet another inch or so over Arthur. And when Arthur looks closely, he can see that Merlin's blue eyes are now permanently flecked with subtle lines of gold, so slight that if you did not look at them in the proper light you would not see it – but the gold is there, and that, more than anything else, speaks to Arthur of how Merlin has changed.

But when Merlin speaks, there can be no doubt that he is still the same person he was all those years ago; true, the boy has grown into a man, but his heart remains the same.

"Hello, Arthur," Merlin says warmly, allowing his joy at being reunited with his King to shine through his voice. "It's good to see you again."

Arthur stands, speechless for a moment, then abruptly moves forward and grasps Merlin in a tight hug. Lord Darris audibly sniffs his disapproval, but Arthur is beyond caring.

"Merlin!" he cries joyfully. "You idiot! Where have you been? What have you been doing? And what, may I ask, took you so bloody long to come back?"

"Maybe that's a conversation better had in private," Merlin suggests, looking at the assembled council members. Arthur catches his meaning immediately, and wastes no time dismissing his council. Lord Ildren is the only one who offers Merlin a genuine smile as he files out.

Once they are gone, Arthur seats himself at the council table and invites Merlin to do the same. Now that the euphoria of Merlin's reappearance has settled slightly, he wants answers. So Merlin explains.

"Well, _obviously_, I couldn't come back while your father was still King…"

"I know that, idiot," Arthur interrupts, a bit insulted at the somewhat patronising tone Merlin has adopted; it is just like old times – Merlin doubting his intelligence and Arthur obstinately protesting it. "But why on earth didn't you come back when I became King?"

"Well, first of all, I was training, and I couldn't exactly leave my mentor…"

"What mentor?" Arthur questions.

"You wouldn't understand," Merlin says dismissively, waving a pale hand. "It's all a bit confusing to me, too, really…"

"_Mer_lin."

Merlin sighs with an air of longsuffering. "All right, all right – he's a time traveling sorcerer named Taliesin, he died about three hundred years ago…"

"You were learning magic from a _dead _sorcerer?" Arthur exclaims in disbelief.

"Er, yeah, more or less…I tried training on my own for a bit, but there was only so much I could do – then I spent some time with the druids, but the your father's patrols were searching the woods, and I didn't want to put them in danger, so I left to go to the Lake of Avalon."

"There are many stories about that lake," Arthur notes. "They say it is the entrance to the afterlife, and the realm of the immortals."

"Well, that's partly true," Merlin admits. He is about to continue, but something else has occurred to Arthur.

"There are rumours of that lake now being guarded by a lady," he says. "The Lady of the Lake, they call her."

Merlin smiles gently. "That is true. Her name is Freya."

Arthur looks at him askance. "You're on first-name basis with the Lady of the Lake?"

Merlin nods, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Yup. She was the one who advised me to seek out Taliesin – not an easy task, mind you…I had to wander around for over a month before I finally found the Crystal Cave…"

"And what's that?"

"According to Taliesin, it's the birthplace of magic. It was where I met him. He agreed to train me, but in order to do that I had to follow him on his travels through time. I was literally living in the past, and Taliesin only brought me back to this time about nine months ago."

"Hold on." Arthur raises a hand as he attempts to get his raging feelings of hurt and abandonment under control. "Correct me if I'm wrong…you've been back here for nine months, right?"

"Yes."

"I see." It is taking a lot of effort for Arthur to keep his voice calm. "In that case, Merlin, why the _hell _have you only come back now?"

Merlin's eyes look hurt; Arthur's words, and the unspoken message underlying his accusatory tone, have affected him in some way. "Believe me, Arthur, if I could have come back sooner, I would have."

Arthur is still hurt, but he now senses that there is more to the story, and he gestures for Merlin to continue.

"After I came back, I spent a month catching up on everything that had happened," Merlin explains. "I couldn't believe things had changed so much."

"The war devastated the natural order of events," Arthur agrees grimly.

"Quite," Merlin concurs. "The minute I learned that you were King, I was ready to race to Camelot and swear allegiance to you – but Kilgharrah warned me not to."

Arthur feels a moment's irrational and unreasonable anger at this unknown person who kept Merlin from him. "Who's Kilgharrah?"

At this, Merlin looks ashamed. "Um, well…Kilgharrah's the Great Dragon."

Arthur stares. "The Great Dragon that I killed?" he clarifies.

"Well, actually, you didn't kill him…I sort of ordered him to go away."

"And how, pray tell, did you do that?"

Merlin warily lifts his gaze to meet Arthur's. "I'm a Dragonlord."

Arthur wants to ask how and when Merlin became a member of a race Arthur knows is extinct, but he decides against it in favour of learning more about why Merlin was told not to come back. He puts the question to Merlin, who frowns slightly as he wonders how to explain.

"It's a little complicated," he confesses. "It has to do with destiny and fate and the threads of magic…"

"Merlin," Arthur warns.

"…basically, Kilgharrah told me of a prophecy that warned against my return until the time was right," Merlin summarises. "It's…how do I explain this?...well, put simply, there's a lot riding on the two of us. We're responsible for the future of Albion and the return of magic…or rather, _you_ are, and I'm supposed to help."

Upon hearing this, Arthur sits up straight. "Good grief, the rumours are _true_?"

Merlin smirks. "If you're talking about the story that people are calling the Prince and the Servant, and the related druidic input telling of our supposed destiny, then yes, they're true." He turns serious. "Arthur, you're the Once and Future King, and I'm your Warlock. It's our destiny."

Arthur momentarily dismisses this information to his steadily growing pile of 'Things to Discuss with Merlin Later' and ploughs on, "Destiny aside, that still doesn't explain why you couldn't come back sooner. What, exactly, was 'the right time'?"

"Well, let's just say that your first year as King was meant to be the determining period that would decide whether or not our joint destiny would be fulfilled," says Merlin. "I had already committed myself to my destiny, but if you didn't, then it would all be for nothing. This was a choice you had to make for yourself – I wasn't allowed to interfere; thus, I couldn't return to Camelot for fear of disrupting the course of destiny. The last year has been your test, and you passed it."

Somewhat bewildered, Arthur asks, "How did I do that?" He finds it a little disturbing that he can pass a test he knew nothing about.

"When you declared once and for all that magic would be made legal in Camelot again, you accepted your destiny." Merlin is radiating warm pride for his King, and Arthur feels gratified to know that he made the right decision.

"So all this time, it was me preventing you from returning?"

"In a way, yes." At Arthur's crestfallen expression, Merlin hurries to add, "But it was necessary. Don't beat yourself up about it. Besides, I haven't been completely absent. I may have been in the past, but I had the Crystal of Neahtid with me, and I kept watch on you. When I saw that you were going to die from that assassination attempt during the war, I begged Taliesin to let me go to you. He wouldn't let me, but he went himself to heal you."

Arthur blinks, humbled by the extent of Merlin's protection of him. "Thank you," he says quietly. "I don't deserve your undying loyalty."

"Yes, you do," Merlin disagrees. "You're going to be a great King, Arthur. You deserve it all and more."

"You know," says Arthur, changing the subject, "I'm kicking myself for not standing up to the council sooner. I've been such a…a dollophead, as you'd put it. Don't laugh," he adds severely at Merlin's twitching mouth. "I'm being serious. I've meant to repeal the ban on magic since I took the throne, but I kept tiptoeing around the councilors about it. They were driving me up the wall, and I could have solved the problem so much earlier if I'd only decided to take a firmer stand and force the law down their throats."

"Don't be a prat," Merlin says immediately. "Doing something like that so early in your reign would have been asking for disaster. You're meant to be a great King, not a ruthless tyrant." He exhales. "Seriously, Arthur, everything worked out the way it was supposed to. You can't fight destiny, as I've learned."

"You're probably right," Arthur agrees. He looks at Merlin, and an automatic smile appears on his face again. "I'm glad you're back, Merlin. I've missed you."

Merlin inclines his head in acknowledgment. "I've missed you too. It's nothing short of amazing how attached I've got to a prat like you."

"No, what's amazing is how an idiot like you ended up as my best friend," Arthur shoots back, and they both smile.

Just then the doors open and Gwen and Morgana all but run in; word has evidently spread of Merlin's return, probably thanks to Lord Ildren.

"Merlin!" Gwen squeals, all queenly decorum forgotten as she throws herself onto her long-lost friend. "You're back!"

"I can't tell you how good it is to see you again, Merlin," Morgana adds sincerely, hugging him in turn. "It was completely unjust, the way you had to leave, and –"

"Don't," Merlin cuts her off; he knows how close she came to turning evil, as the dragon had warned, and he's afraid that if she keeps dwelling on Uther's injustice, it will bode ill. "It's in the past. We don't have to talk about it anymore." His arms linger a while around her waist, and over her shoulder, he sees the doors open again to admit a much slower form. Instantly, Merlin straightens, extricating himself from Morgana to hug Gaius as tightly as humanly possible. Gaius, for his part, returns the hug, his eyes glistening suspiciously bright.

"My boy," he whispers emotionally, holding Merlin close. "You're finally back."

"I've missed you so much, Gaius," Merlin says, not bothering to hide the happy tears that are now leaking from his eyes. Arthur pretends he doesn't see them – Merlin has always been a bit girly in that respect.

At length, Gaius clears his throat and looks to Arthur. "Sire, the palace gossip says that you stood up to the council and forcefully ordered the repeal of the ban on magic," he tells the King.

"How did word get out so fast?" Arthur wonders; it has not yet been an hour.

"I believe it was Lord Ildren, Sire," Gaius responds, his eyes having regained their bright spark and winking wickedly. "As I hear it, he's taken it upon himself to announce the happy news to anyone he meets. Lord Darris and the other councilors are fuming."

"Let them fume," Arthur says, quite unconcerned. "If their attitude is any indication, I don't expect them to be on the council much longer. Whether they like it or not, magic will be legal from tomorrow onwards."

Merlin perks up, startled. "Tomorrow?" he echoes. "You're repealing the ban on magic tomorrow?"

"Yes. Why?"

"That makes tomorrow the day you become the Once and Future King," Merlin muses, much to the puzzlement of Gwen and Morgana, who are unaware of the prophecies.

"Whatever you say, Merlin." Arthur doesn't really care what it makes him; he has his best friend back, and to him, that's all that matters at the moment.

"Do you have anything else to do today?" Merlin inquires unexpectedly.

"Nothing that can't be postponed," Arthur replies. "Why?" he asks again.

"I need to take you somewhere."

* * *

It is almost sunset by the time Merlin leads Arthur to a small clearing in the middle of the forest. Arthur stares around him with incredulity, because he has been through every inch of this forest, and knows it all by heart, yet he has never come across this clearing before. He knows he hasn't, because he's certain that he would have remembered the great big rock with the sword stuck in it that stands in the middle of the glade. And he recalls the legends of a sword in a stone, that is only meant to be wielded by one King, and he knows that this is it.

"Why are we here, Merlin?" he asks.

In response, Merlin gestures at the rock, and the sword in it. "That sword there was made by one of the finest blacksmiths in the kingdom, and forged in dragon fire. It's a weapon capable of killing anything, even the undead – it was used to kill the wraith of Tristan du Bois, after which I placed it in this rock to await its master. It is the only one of its kind. And it's yours."

Arthur, who is now beginning to comprehend the enormous destiny that awaits him, is remarkably unsurprised to discover that yet another legend is linked to him. What does startle him is the fact that the greatest sword in history supposedly belongs to him.

"Merlin, the Sword in the Stone can only be wielded by one King," he informs him.

"I know, Arthur. That King is you."

But Arthur shakes his head. "No, I can't be. You said the sword was used to kill Tristan du Bois. My father killed Tristan du Bois. He wielded this sword. It's his."

"No, it is not," Merlin insists with sudden vehemence. "The sword was always meant for you. I oversaw its creation for _you_, not your father. Uther may have used the sword to kill Tristan du Bois, but it was never his. Kilgharrah was very angry when he learned that Uther had used it, and instructed me to hide it where no one would ever find it, or be able to take it, even if they did. So I put it in the rock, and it's been waiting for you all these years. _You, _ and only you, are its true master, Arthur."

Arthur blinks several times, feeling as though he is in a daze. Merlin said that he oversaw the creation of the Sword in the Stone – but the legends of the sword date back to the time of King Brutë, and trying to figure out how the two seemingly irreconcilable occurrences are related is giving him a headache. Had Merlin been acting on the legends? Or did the legends exist _because _Merlin would act? Arthur is new to this prophecy business, but already he knows that it is going to be a pain.

However, he cannot ignore Merlin's words, or the feeling of rightness, of belonging, that spreads through him when he looks at the sword – and so he walks over to the great rock, wraps his fingers around the hilt of the blade, and pulls with all his might.

The lack of resistance unbalances him momentarily, but when he regains his footing, his mind is clear. The sword has sunk back into the rock, but Arthur knows now that when he pulls, it will not resist him. So he pulls again, with far less strength than he did before, and metal slides easily against the rock. As the last, golden rays of the setting sun converge on the clearing, the sword comes free, and when Arthur raises it high, its smooth, burnished metal catches the sunlight and shines. At the same time, Arthur feels a warmth travel from the sword into his hand, and spread throughout the rest of his body. And he knows that this sword will never fail him; indeed, he will never take another blade.

A name comes, unbidden, into his mind, and slips out from his mouth easily. "Excalibur," he whispers, thereby naming his new sword forevermore. The blade seems to sing as he does so, and Merlin, watching from the side, smiles. The sword he had procured for Arthur so long ago is finally in the right hands.

The sun sets, and the light fades, darkening the forest to a dim twilight. The magic of the moment is gone, but Arthur will always remember it. Awed, he turns to Merlin and says, "Wow."

"Wow," Merlin agrees. And abruptly, he drops to his knees at Arthur's feet. "You are the Once and Future King, and I pledge my fealty to you," he swears solemnly. "For the rest of my days, come what may, I will serve you with all that I have. On this day of your coming into your destiny, I name you my King, now and forevermore."

Arthur, caught off guard for a moment, inclines his head. "Get up, Merlin," he instructs. Merlin does so, and Arthur continues, "Merlin, you're my best friend, and the one to whom my destiny is intertwined forever. You are the magic to my sword, and the humility to my majesty. I hereby name you my Warlock, now and forevermore."

With that, their connection is sealed, their friendship cemented. Then they leave the clearing together, exchanging semi-serious banter, and leaving behind the now empty rock that once bore the greatest sword of all time – the rock that is the only other witness to the binding pact made by the Warlock and the King on this day.

* * *

In the years to come, Arthur truly lives up to his destiny, uniting the Five Kingdoms into the land of Albion and bringing magic back throughout his great kingdom. Merlin is by his side as he does it all, proudly encouraging and protecting the King from any who wish to harm him. It is indeed a tragedy that the druid boy Mordred, upon maturing, eventually fulfills his own destiny by killing King Arthur on the field of Camlann, thus ending the reign of the greatest monarch to ever live. While Mordred sustains a mortal injury from Excalibur's final blow, a sorrowful Merlin takes Arthur's body to the Lake of Avalon, where he entrusts it to Freya. The Lady of the Lake faithfully conveys the King to his final resting place in Avalon, and a year later, to the very day and time, Merlin too greets death, leaving Camelot in the capable hands of Arthur's teenage son, Loholt, with his mother and aunt to guide him in the ruling of the kingdom.

It is said that the spirits of King Arthur and the Warlock Merlin were reunited in the paradise of Avalon, and that they remained, even beyond death, the best pair of friends ever seen in this world. For their fates were so intertwined, their lives so tied to each other, that they could not help but be two sides of the same coin.

Over the years, the story of the Warlock and the King grew and evolved into a fantastical legend, much embellished and altered from the original and true events. Uther Pendragon became a good and kind-hearted king, much loved by his people. Morgana's new incarnation is that of an evil sorceress and Merlin's archnemesis. Merlin was reimagined as King Uther's most trusted advisor, who spirited away the infant Prince Arthur to a farmer's family when Uther died prematurely and a dangerous squabble over the succession erupted among his knights. Arthur himself is now said to have grown up with no knowledge of his royal heritage until the day he pulled the sword out of the stone (this, too, was no longer in a secluded forest glade, but in the courtyard of Camelot); and Guinevere evolved into an independent daughter of a king who betrayed Arthur with Sir Lancelot.

Despite the drastic and wholly inaccurate changes to the original tale, the fundamental truth of it, it must be said, remains the same. For whichever incarnation of the story is read or told, there is always Merlin and Arthur. The very good reason for this, of course, is the fact that without Merlin and Arthur, there is no story. Therefore, every version of the tale must have both Merlin and Arthur, sharing some sort of strong friendship, for that was what started it all. Because at the very beginning, before anything else, there was Merlin and Arthur.

There was the Warlock and the King.


End file.
